Friday's Letters


Dear Snookie:
I'm scared shitless that you're pregnant, so I can only imagine how you're feeling. As you know, there was a Jersey Shore marathon this past weekend since the season 5 finale aired last night. Watching what a hot mess you are reminded me why you shouldn't be allowed to have ovaries. Lord help us all.

Dear Donald Trump's sons:
I really don't mind that you killed leopards and elephants and then had a photo shoot. I know plenty of people who take pictures with the animals they recently killed. Granted, those animals are typically deer, and none of my friends are sons of billionaires.
I understand the initial shock of looking at a photo of someone holding a dead leopard, but let's get real. We stick leopards in cages so children with snotty noses can enjoy looking at them. If leopards could talk, I have a feeling they would rather risk getting killed in the wild, than be trapped in the Bronx Zoo.

Dear Snarky Bitch who insists on sending me snarky, bitchy emails:
I don't work for you, so stop expecting me to drop everything I'm doing and focus on what you want. I'm working with you on ONE project...ONE project out of TEN projects that I'm currently involved with. When I tell you I will get back to you, I will. You don't need to send me daily emails, and you especially don't need to be emailing my boss. Guess what? She doesn't like you either.

Dear St. Patrick's Day:
Thank you, thank you, thank you for falling on a Saturday this year. It's supposed to be 67 and sunny, so you know what that means; day drinking favorite past time!

I hope you all have a wonderful weekend!